


i go from day to day

by likewinning



Series: little beasts [86]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: He and Harvey barely talk, much less hang out.





	

Jason's standing in line at the bank when he hears a familiar voice behind him. "Hey, kid. Don't tell me you're gonna rob _this_ joint."

He turns around and Harvey's standing there, dressed in a nice suit, wearing a tie that's almost the color of his eyes. His hair's slicked back and he's clean-shaven but there are lines under his eyes that almost go away when he grins.

"Harvey," Jason says. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, right?" Harvey asks. He shrugs. "This is one of the only safe banks in Gotham if you don't want Selina scratching your eyes out."

"Yeah," Jason says. The line moves a foot or two.

"How you been, kid?" Harvey says. "I saw Dick at Foley's not too long ago, but I haven't seen you since Helsingborg last year."

"Yeah," Jason says. That was a good gig. Jason took Tim along for the ride and they blew up a couple of buildings, took out a few scumbags, did a ton of coke, and even checked out some tourist attractions. Harvey and Bruce stayed back at the hotel, and Tim never asked why, not even when Jason left purple bruises on him from gripping his hips so hard.

"I'm good, man," Jason says, but the look on Harvey's face says he knows it's a lie.

"Listen," Harvey says when Jason's next in line. "What are you up to after this?"

"Dunno," Jason says. He genuinely doesn't. Tim's been gone for a few weeks, the way he is sometimes. Dick and Roy are in Star City. Bruce is probably doing lines off McGinnis, or whatever. Jason's -

"Yeah," Harvey says. "Come have a drink with me."

Jason snorts. He and Harvey barely _talk_ , much less hang _out_.

"Seriously," Harvey says. "Wait for me when you're done."

Jason wants to tell him to fuck off, but he can't think of a good enough reason to. "Okay," Jason says. "Why the hell not."

 

*

 

After Harvey gets done, they walk a few blocks over to McColley's on 9th Street. Jason used to come in here sometimes to hustle pool and pick the pockets of idiot drunks. He and Harvey each get a beer and grab a table near the back.

"So come on," Harvey says. He leans back in his chair to look at Jason. "What's been going on with you?"

Jason takes a swig of his beer. It's the cheap stuff, not the fancy shit Bruce keeps around the house. "Harvey," Jason says. "I've known you since I was sixteen, and not once have you _ever_ asked me about myself."

"Ha," Harvey says. "Yeah." He looks down at the table, where _M+D_ and a big heart is carved into it. "I always sort of resented you."

"Well," Jason says. "I always kind of wanted to stab you in the eye, so we're even."

Harvey laughs, loud and long, his whole body shaking with it and his white white teeth showing. Jason knows Harvey was a street kid, too, before he met Bruce, but you'd never know it unless you really _looked_ for things - the scar just behind his ear, the cigarette burns that Harvey usually keeps covered with his suit sleeves, the way he'll slip out of fancy college boy speak sometimes. 

They sit and chat for a little while about work, talking in code in case anyone's listening, and then Harvey finishes off his second beer and looks straight at him across the table. "Come on," he says. "You and Bruce."

Jason thought it might be coming, but he still flinches. "I'm not talking about this," he says.

Harvey nods. "Okay," he says. "Sure, fine. Okay. So let _me_ talk. Because I went over to see him the other day for the first time in _months_ , and there's some new little twink getting fucked on the living room sofa."

"McGinnis," Jason grunts.

"Them's the one," Harvey says. "Gotta say, I never thought _you'd_ let -"

"Go f -" Jason starts.

"Hey," Harvey interrupts. "You wanna play some pool?"

"What?" Jason asks, and Harvey grins.

"Bet you a hundred and a line I win," Harvey says, and Jason snorts.

"You're on," he says.

 

*

 

"I mean," Harvey says, a few games of pool and a couple lines later. They're out by the alleyway smoking, and Jason can't feel his fingers. Harvey always did have the good shit. "I mean, no offense or anything, but I didn't really think you'd last the week, much less this long. Figured a cute little trick like you would try to rob him blind and end up with a bullet in your brain."

Honestly, Jason's too high to do anything but laugh, and anyway - "I thought about it for a while there," Jason says. He lights up another cigarette with the end of the first one. "A month, maybe even two. Every time he'd really piss me off, I thought about setting the whole place on fire. Dickie would've helped just to see the pretty lights."

Harvey snorts. "You're probably right."

"Yeah," Jason says. "But even after you came back, things were… They'd been…"

"Yeah," Harvey says. He lets out a breath, and even with the buzzing in his head Jason needs another line. He thought he was numb enough by now. He wonders when Roy and Dickie get back, if Tim would answer if he called.

"Bitch of it is," Harvey says. "At least you've got everyone else."

Jason looks at him. His face is half in shadow, and up close he can see the gray in his hair, the lines under his eyes. Even after he came back from prison, Harvey seemed somehow younger than Bruce, but now -

"What about Selina?" Jason asks. "Dinah?"

"Business partners," Harvey says. "Clients. All Bruce's friends."

"Oh," Jason says quietly. He never really thought about it. Truth to tell, he never thought about Harvey much at _all_ , except the noise he and Bruce made together, the way they'd always drift into each other's space when Harvey came around. But it's true, in all this time, he's never seen Harvey with a girlfriend or boyfriend or even another close friend.

"Anyway," Harvey says. He flicks his cigarette out. "You should get home, kid. Must be past curfew."

Jason ignores him. "If you want, you can…" He starts, but then stops himself. Harvey isn't his fucking problem. "Nevermind. You're right. Thanks for the drinks, Harv."

After he walks away, he realizes he's never called Harvey that before.

 

*

 

"You know," Harvey says when he steps out of the way so Jason can climb in through his living room window. "I _have_ a door."

"I know," Jason says. He grins, and in the dim light from Harvey's lamp, he can see Jason's dilated pupils. He wobbles slightly when he steps inside, and Harvey would question how this kid climbed four stories while high if he hadn't seen Bruce's other boys do it a dozen times.

Not _here_. Not - even Dick never liked him _that_ much.

"Figured I'd channel Dickie today," Jason says. He brushes past Harvey and settles himself back on the couch. Harvey _was_ watching the game, but Jason flicks through channels until Harvey gives up, grabs him a beer from the kitchen and asks, "What's up, man?"

Jason shrugs. He's wearing a Knights t-shirt and beat-up combat boots, and he puts his feet on Harvey's coffee table before he cracks open his beer. "I was in the neighborhood."

"So what?" Harvey says. "You figured you'd stop by and bust through my window? What if I hadn't been home?"

"I would've payed for the broken glass," Jason says. He winks, slurps at his beer.

"Jason," Harvey starts. He's never seen Jason like this, never really seen him as anything but downright belligerent toward him, except the other night.

Jason ignores him. He gets back up and wanders around the penthouse, picking up books and papers, pocketing the pack of cigarettes Harvey left on his desk. Harvey follows him, and after a few minutes Jason turns around and says, "Man, you don't even have a dog."

Harvey almost laughs, because he _thought_ about it. He swallows down the laugh and asks, "Should I?"

"Uh-huh," Jason says. He chugs his beer down and crunches up the can. "Even I had a dog for a while, before she got sick. Buffy was the best, man."

"You named your dog after a vampire slayer?" Harvey asks, and Jason flips him off.

"My point is," Jason says. He tosses his beer can, doesn't bother to watch where it lands. He moves in front of Harvey. Harvey got so used to Jason being this scrappy, tiny thing, it took him until a few days ago to realize Jason is a _man_ now - pretty still, sure, but all broad shoulders and muscle, built more like Bruce than like Dick or Tim. Jason -

"My point is you must be fucking lonely, like me," Jason says.

"I," Harvey says. "Kid…"

Jason prods Harvey's chest with his index finger. "The other day," he says. "What did you want with me?"

"I don't know," Harvey admits. He licks his lips. "You just," Harvey says. "You reminded me of him, and -"

Harvey catches Jason's fist before it can quite hit his jaw, and Jason laughs and licks his teeth. He squirms in Harvey's grip and Harvey backs him up against the wall, shoves his leg between Jason's and watches his eyes get big big _big_. It's not that he didn't get what Bruce saw in him, but -

But.

"What about now?" Jason asks. "Am I like him _now_?" He reaches for Harvey with his free hand, pulls hard on his hair to drag him down and that's Jason's teeth making his lip bleed, Jason's tongue lapping at the blood like it's candy. Harvey squeezes Jason's wrist hard enough to bruise and rubs his cock against Jason's through their clothes and when he brings his hand up to Jason's throat Jason makes the _prettiest_ sound.

"Like that?" Harvey pulls away to murmur and Jason nods, bares his teeth and begs with his whole body, begs to be _touched_.

"I know," Harvey says. He lets go of Jason's wrist to run his hand through his hair. "You're starving, aren't you?"

"Harvey," Jason warns, but his hands are working Harvey's belt and he's licking his _lips_.

"I got you, kid," Harvey says, and when Jason slides to the floor to suck him down Harvey forgets about everything for a minute, everything but how many times Jason must have done this for Bruce.

Jason takes all of him; even when he goes too fast and gags a little he doesn't actually _stop_. Harvey touches Jason's throat with one hand, pets his hair with the other, and distantly he knows he's talking non-stop, telling Jason _that's it Jay so good just like you did for him come on I got you I -_

Harvey's head slams back against the wall when he comes, and when he blinks his eyes open Jason's still kneeling there on the floor, licking the corners of his mouth and glaring up at him like he can't decide between a fuck or a fight.

"C'mere," Harvey says, deciding for him. He even makes his tone nice enough, gives Jason a hand to his feet and then lifts Jason's shirt enough to get at his belt and get his jeans open. Jason's leaking through his boxers and Harvey barely touches him before Jason moans, whines, bucks forward and buries his head against the crook of his shoulder.

He barely knows Jason at all, but somehow -

He's been this angry, this desperate his whole life. He _knows_.

After Jason comes, neither one of them says anything for a while. Then Jason backs up enough to let him by, and Harvey goes to grab them both a beer and they finish watching the game. Harvey ends up falling asleep on the couch, like he does most nights, but when he wakes up in the morning Jason's gone.

 

*

 

A few days later, Jason's wandering around a used bookstore, trying to remember if Roy's read this Bukowski book when Harvey calls him. The number isn't even programmed into Jason's phone, but Jason recognizes it from deleting it out of _Bruce's_ phone more than a few times. It used to make Bruce crazy.

"Hey," Jason says. "What's up, man?"

"You busy?" Harvey asks.

"Nah," Jason says. "Just thinking about robbing a bookstore," Jason says, maybe a little too close to a little old lady with _Jesus saves_ stitched into her bag.

"Well, in that case, pick me up some Kerouac," Harvey laughs.

"Depends," Jason says. He breezes through Fiction, touching the spines of some of his favorite books. Most of his favorites are still back at the Manor, and he can't decide whether or not to rescue them or buy new copies.

"What's your favorite?" Jason asks.

" _Not_ _Dharma Bums_ ," Harvey says, and Jason chokes on a laugh.

"Jesus, Bruce was always going on about that one."

"Uh-huh," Harvey says. "And I had fifteen more years of it than you did, so consider yourself lucky."

"Yeah," Jason says. "I always liked _Cody_."

" _I stood on sandpiles with an open soul, I not only accept loss forever, I am made of loss_ ," Harvey quotes, and there's dust on the shelves in front of him and Jason forgets to breathe for a minute.

"What is it, Harv?" Jason asks then.

"Thought you might want to pick up where you left off the other night," Harvey says. "If you're not too busy running errands for him or something."

Jason digs his nails into his palm. "Don't go anywhere," he says, and when he gets to Harvey's place twenty minutes later he takes the elevator this time, throws a copy of _Big Sur_ at him and keeps going, doesn't stop, doesn't _stop_ until he has Harvey's tie between his fingers and Harvey's mouth on his neck.

"Took the elevator this time, huh," Harvey teases, and Jason sweeps Harvey's feet out from under him and knocks him the floor, in between the coffee table and the couch. Harvey laughs, the wind knocked out of him, and he helps Jason get his shirt off and his belt undone.

"Talk to me, kid," Harvey says, looking up at him. "I used to hear you all the _time_." He lifts Jason by the hips and sets him down to straddle his chest, and he leans forward and licks the lines of Jason's abs, the big ugly scar from before Bruce ever met him.

"Don't wanna talk," Jason says. The sun's coming through the blinds, throwing slanted bits of light everywhere, and Harvey's hands are soft when they push his jeans down, when he squeezes Jason's ass and guides him into his mouth.

His brain goes blank for a while, nothing but Harvey's mouth on him, the smell of cigarettes and cheap wine, coke dust all over the coffee table next to him. He lets Harvey up after he comes, and they do a couple of lines together, and Harvey pulls him into his bedroom and bends him over, eats him out until he soaks the sheets and then fucks him with his hand around his throat, his ring digging into Jason's skin. All the while Harvey talks in his ear, tells him how good he feels, and for a minute he doesn't think to ask if he's really the one Harvey's talking about.

It doesn't matter. He leans back against Harvey and shudders when he comes and Harvey holds onto him, kisses his cheek and pushes the hair back from his eyes. "God, you're gorgeous," Harvey tells him, and it's been a while since anyone said that to him, so Jason stays for dinner.

 

*

 

In the morning, Jason wakes up and wanders around Harvey's kitchen until he finds the coffee maker. Harvey must own a hundred tools and gadgets for the kitchen, but there's also an entire drawer just of takeout menus.

While Jason's waiting for the coffee to brew, Harvey comes up behind them and presses up against Jason's back, rests his chin on his shoulder. "Don't tell me you're making breakfast, too," Harvey teases.

"I might," Jason says, pulling two mugs down from the cabinet, "if you had anything in this kitchen besides potato chips."

"All part of a healthy breakfast," Harvey murmurs, yawning.

"You're worse than Bruce," Jason laughs. He pours them each a cup, and they move out to the balcony so they can smoke.

"I still can't believe you taught him how to cook," Harvey says.

"Just a few things," Jason says. "Just… enough to get by." He swallows the lump in his throat and leans back in the deck chair. Harvey tips his head to look at him.

"He taught me plenty, too, right?" Jason asks. He can hear the rasp in his voice that isn't just cigarettes. "That's how it goes."

"Hey, killer," Harvey says. "You're doing all right, you know?"

"Yeah," Jason says. From here, they have a view of the entire Gotham skyline. The city's waking up around them, and Jason can hear sirens in the distance, the honk of morning traffic. He missed this the most when he lived in the Manor, the constant _noise_ of the city. Bruce would laugh and call him crazy, never understood that the creak of the manor was worse than half a dozen sirens for keeping him awake.

They finish their coffee and cigarettes, and before he gets ready for work Harvey drags him into the shower with him, drops down to his knees before turning him around and fucking the breath out of him. Jason listens to the patter of water against the glass, presses his cheek against the damp tile, listens to Harvey calling him _Jay_ the way he never does otherwise.

"Come over tomorrow night," Harvey says when Jason's on his way out the door. "I'll cook."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"Used to, anyway," Harvey says. "We'll see if I still remember."

"Hm," Jason says. "Can I invite Dickie in case there's a fire?"

Harvey shoves him against the door, hand around his throat. He licks his lips. "Anyone tell you you're a little punk?"

"Not for a while," Jason says. He presses into Harvey's grasp, and Harvey's eyes go dark. "You got something you wanna say, man?"

"Fuck," Harvey says. " _Soon_ ," he promises. "Say yes to tomorrow, okay?"

It's almost too desperate even for Jason, but he says yes anyway.

 

*

 

Bruce texts him when he's at Roy's place, kicked back on the floor sharing a bowl with Roy.

_Got something_ , Bruce texts. _Meet me at the house in twenty._

Jason scowls at his phone, then gets another text: _Bring Harper if he's not too busy._

The sarcasm is right there in the text, and Jason considers tossing his phone at the wall. There's no amount of weed in the world that can help him deal with Bruce sometimes.

He rolls onto his side, looks at Roy. "You feel like working?" he asks. Tim's been gone almost three weeks now, and god only knows the last time Roy left the apartment for anything besides cigarettes. His hair is snarled and his t-shirt's covered in ashes.

"Depends," Roy says. He takes a hit off his pipe. "This gonna be one of those times when I go with you just to play referee?"

"Probably," Jason admits.

Roy shakes his head. "All you, Jaybird. Knock his teeth out if you gotta."

Jason laughs, kisses Roy quick on the cheek and Roy rolls on top of him, laughing and wrestling with him until both their hair is slightly singed and Jason gets another text.

_Jason._

_On my way,_ Jason texts.

 

*

 

He meets Bruce outside the house, where Bruce is already loading up with car with the usual. He ignores Jason for a full minute at least, then says, "This shouldn't take long. You can get back to Harvey soon enough."

Jason's checking his gun, but he stares up at Bruce. "What," he says. Not really a question.

Bruce tips his head at him and slams the trunk. He gets in the car and Jason follows, slowly. They don't say anything on the drive, and Bruce keeps the radio off. It's a cold day, but sunny and gorgeous, and Jason stares out the window and tries to think of anything to say, anything to do besides punching a hole in the glass.

They take out a bunch of upstarts north of Gotham, some guys from Central who thought they might have better luck in Bruce's town. Jason lights the fire and thinks of Dickie, wonders why Bruce didn't bring him along. The safehouse goes up in flame and Jason watches, feels Bruce watching him.

Finally, when they're almost back to Gotham, Jason asks, "How did you know?"

Bruce doesn't answer. He grips the steering wheel and there's blood under his nails.

"It's not," Jason says. "It's not like it's anything to you," Jason says. "You're the one with - with the shiny new _teenager_ , and…" Jason swallows. Bruce doesn't even blink. Jason rolls the window down and lights a cigarette.

"Tim told me," Bruce says.

"Tim," Jason says. He hasn't even _seen_ Tim in almost a month - not that that _means_ much. Tim watched them all for years before -

"Mm," Bruce says. He takes the cigarette out of Jason's hand and flicks it out the window. "You'll need to be careful with him," Bruce says, looking at Jason in the mirror. "He's never been what you'd call stable."

"Are you," Jason stammers, gaping at Bruce. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me? You took in _Dick_."

"And you," Bruce says.

"Fuck off," Jason says. "I'm not like any of them. Not Harvey or Dick or your new little toy."

"No," Bruce says. He looks at Jason. "You're not."

Jason flinches, and looks back out the window. "Just get us back to the house."

 

*

 

"Sorry I'm late," Jason says. It's after midnight when he shows up, eyes all puffed up and smelling like weed. He leans against Harvey's doorframe and when Harvey looks him over he sees blood on his knuckles, a hole in his t-shirt that looks like it came from a knife.

"Shit," Harvey says. He's been up reading the book Jason left him, the TV on for background noise. He's holding an open bottle of whiskey and Jason slips it out of his hands and takes a pull. "You okay, kid?" Harvey asks, and Jason gives him a look.

"Right, okay," Harvey says. "Come on, I'll heat you up some leftovers."

"Holy shit," Jason says a few minutes later, when he's shoving forkfuls of spaghetti in his mouth at the kitchen table. "You can actually cook."

"Uh-huh," Harvey says. He leans his chin on his hand and watches Jason devour a piece of garlic bread. "I'm not totally useless, y'know."

Jason licks the marinara sauce from the corner of his mouth. "Never said that. He still needs you, you know."

"What makes you say that?" Harvey says, but Jason ignores him for a minute. He twirls his spaghetti on his fork, chews, takes another swallow of whiskey. Then he looks back across the table at Harvey. There's a new bruise on his cheek, too, the tiniest scratch under his eye.

"Guess he knows about this," Jason says. He waves his hand. "Us. I saw him today."

"Oh," Harvey says. Of course Bruce knows. Nothing happens in Gotham that Bruce doesn't know about, but -

"What," Harvey says "What did he say?"

"Nothing," Jason says. He pushes his plate back, empty but for some specks of oregano, and then he laughs, slams his fist on the table. Harvey reaches across the table and grabs Jason's hand, runs his thumb over Jason's knuckles.

"Who you been fighting, killer?" Harvey asks.

"Went down to the Bowery," Jason says. "Saw this piece of shit pimp I used to know talking to one of his girls." He laughs, and it sounds like it hurts. "Told him he could try to fight me to keep his square, or I could kill him right then."

"You used to work down there, huh?" Harvey asks, and Jason shrugs.

"Long time ago," Jason says. "Didn't really have trouble, not like the girls. Robbed houses in the Heights when someone asked. Ran dope around too sometimes - that was before Bruce took over drug trade and all. Never really hurt anyone before him."

"Yeah," Harvey says. "Neither did I."

Jason blinks up at him, and the whiskey must be hitting him now. "You went to jail for him," Jason says. "I don't know if I could even do that."

"Yeah," Harvey says. He reaches forward and runs his hand through Jason's hair, feels the curls at the back of his neck. "You could."

Jason's plate goes flying when he lunges across the table; the bottle of whiskey smashes onto the floor and sprays both of them when Jason crashes into Harvey's lap.

"Jesus," Harvey says against Jason's mouth. He licks up whiskey and weed and marinara. "Bruce musta thrown you around like a ragdoll when you were that slip of a thing."

"Shut up," Jason mutters.

"I would've, too," Harvey says. He grasps Jason by the throat, and Jason licks his lips. "If I hadn't been so fucking jealous of you for taking what was mine."

Jason grips the back of Harvey's chair, grinds down on him and Harvey squeezes his throat until Jason _pants_ , tongue darting out like something obscene. He claws at Harvey's t-shirt, some dirty white v-neck that he probably stole from Bruce, and Harvey squeezes his ass, rubs at his hole through his jeans.

"Fuck," Jason chokes out, making the table rattle as he pushes back against Harvey. "He knows, you know?"

"Yeah," Harvey says. He can't process that yet, not with this kid in his lap begging to get fucked, not -

"That gonna stop you?" Harvey asks, digging his fingers into the meat of Jason's ass and making him sweat.

"N-no," Jason says, and Harvey pushes them back from the table, shoves Jason out of his lap and gets his jeans down before turning him around to tongue his ass.

"First time he did this for me," Harvey says, dragging his teeth along Jason's skin before he settles at Jason's hole with one long, wet lick. "Nearly jumped outta my skin."

"I never," Jason says as Harvey sucks at his hole. "I never let anybody, before him." His legs tremble as Harvey fucks in with his tongue and then sucks _hard_ , and his nails dig into Harvey's nice wooden coffee table.

Harvey slurps and sucks at him for ages, makes Jason beg and pound at the table until Harvey drags him back to the bedroom, bends him over and slides his dick into him. He holds Jason's throat with one hand, his hip with the other, and Jason works himself over.

"I get it, you know," Harvey says after he pulls out. Jason rubs at his throat. "Why he didn't wanna share you."

Jason flinches, but he still falls asleep in Harvey's bed. It's easier than finding his way home.

 

*

 

Bruce calls him at the office when he's chest-deep in trying to keep one of Bruce's boys out of jail for six speeding tickets and an expired license. Most cops aren't brave enough to touch any of them, but every once in a while someone gets cocky, thinks they can catch one of them on some bullshit charge.

"How's Jason?" Bruce asks, and Harvey chokes on a laugh, moves some papers around so he can cut up a line.

"He misses you, you stupid fuck," Harvey says. "Teenager rob you blind yet?"

"Just a couple of priceless heirlooms," Bruce says.

"Ha," Harvey says. He leans back in his chair, rubs at his nose.

"What are you doing tonight?" Bruce asks.

"Keeping one of your boys out of jail," Harvey says. "What else?"

Bruce laughs. "I never thought," he says. "I never thought it would be anyone but us."

And that's the thing, Harvey wants to say. The first time he came over and saw Dick doing handsprings across the front lawn, he figured Bruce had lost his fucking mind. And when these kids just kept multiplying, taking up all of Bruce's time -

"They need you," Harvey says. _I need you_.

"How is he?" Bruce asks again, and he sounds different this time, like when he would call Harvey up from Minsk or Sao Paulo or wherever he trained to be some ruthless killer, lonely and missing what he had left of home.

"He's Jason," Harvey says. "Toughest kid you ever met."

"Except for you," Bruce says. They stay on the phone for a while and bullshit about growing up together, about the time Harvey pulled a knife on some punk that went after Bruce for being too smart and too scrawny. Harvey ignores the sea of paperwork around him and listens to the sound of Bruce's laugh, warm like whiskey. Jason's on his balcony when he gets home, reading Jane Austen and smoking his way through a pack of Newports.

"I could get you a key, y'know," Harvey tells him. He runs his hand through Jason's hair, steals the cigarette from between his fingers and takes a puff. "You wouldn't have to fuck with my locks all the time."

Jason looks up at him, fucking doll lashes and big blue eyes and Harvey knows exactly why Bruce took him home.

"You asking me to go steady, Dent?" Jason teases, and Harvey flicks the cigarette out, takes the book out of Jason's hand and straddles him. He rubs his thumb over Jason's bottom lip and says, "Maybe I'm just trying to keep that mouth of yours close by."

Jason drags him down by the hair, gets Harvey close and kisses him until his mouth is sore. He knows Jason will stay. Neither of them has anywhere else to go.


End file.
